The Wishing Well
by The Soapy Kid
Summary: Not a 'Harry wishes his parents back to life fic.' Harry looks for peace and solitude in his life and finds it in the form of the Hogwarts lake. Not a one shot. Very light angst so far, but may get a little darker.
1. A wish

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

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*The Wishing Well*

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Chapter 1

A wish

The crisp, night air penetrated Harry's pajamas like a sharp stick through a flobber worm, leaving the boy to shiver and wrap his arms closer to his body to keep in his limited body heat. His invisibility cloak lay in the grass next to him, discarded there after Harry had made it safely out onto school grounds. He obviously wasn't supposed to be here, but he didn't care. Harry sat by the bank of the lake, staring out at the reflection of the moon on the dark mass of water; a white pearl in a tar pit. Harry didn't really have a good reason for being out here, unless you counted finding a bit of peace a good reason. Either way, your opinion wouldn't matter. If Filch or, God have mercy, Snape caught him out at a time like this, there'd be hell to pay. Peace just wasn't a priority here at Hogwarts. Safety and learning were.

Harry searched the bank for a good rock. This last year, Voldemort had stepped up his activities. Thus, Hogwarts security had been beefed up. More wards. Aurors patrolling outside the gate. Canceled Hogsmeade visits, and no Quittage.

Harry's hand found a good stone and, with a flick of his wrist, he sent it flying out over the lake. One. Two. Three, four, five. Six skips. Not bad. Still, last Tuesday, he'd gotten eight, and the week before that he'd sworn he'd gotten at least eleven, though it was dark and he may have been wrong. Yes, he'd been out here every day since near the start of the term, skipping rocks and freezing his ass off. Sometimes, it was to vent over a failed test or bad day. Other times it was to laugh and smile about a great day with his friends, a good grade, or a misfortune falling on Draco. Often, it was just habit, something he did every night to relieve the stress of the day. But he held no secrets here. The banks had soaked up his bitter tears of loneliness. The water had soothed his nerves after another dream of Voldemort. The stones had felt his hand wrap around them tightly, shaky with anger at the unfairness of life. The lake knew him like a brother, and he welcomed its consolation.

Harry's hand found another rock. It followed the other one out over the lake, skipping through the waves. Five. It was still a good throw and the rock hadn't been perfectly smooth. For a while after the death of his godfather, Harry had drifted through life. That summer had been hell on Earth. He'd worked like a dog not just because of his aunt and uncle, but because it was something to do. He'd blamed himself for what had happened, and still did, but the summer had been hard on him. Night time was plagued with nightmares filled with guilt and regret. Day break brought chores to do and attempts to try to forget what had happened. It never worked. The start of the term hadn't been much better. His room mates had repeatedly woke him from a nightmare in the middle of the night. At first, it had been looks of concern on their faces, but as the days wore on they turned to glares, annoyance, and want for sleep.

Then, he'd found this place. It had been there all along, just waiting to offer comfort and solitude. Now his life had taken a direction again. Now he slept here, under the curtain of stars to wake at day break. He always hated that he couldn't stay to watch the sun rise, but he had to get back to his dorms before people noticed he'd been gone. Then a hectic day would follow, with him running every which way to get everything done. But now……… Now the night was his. One, two……… three, four. Five again. But the skips had been longer and the stone had made it a ways before it sunk.

Harry leaned back and propped his hands behind his head. His mind drifted around, thinking deep thoughts, or thinking nothing in particular, it didn't matter which. That was the beauty of the lake. It didn't ask him to do either. It had no expectations of him.

Then, the mermaids began singing their lullabies. The melodies washed over Harry like waves, stilling the beast in side his soul that lashed out in hatred at the world. There, under the stars and moon, caressed by the mermaids lullabies, Harry fell asleep, dreaming dreams of peace.

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AN: Just so you know, this is **not** a one shot. So, what do you think? Review if you liked it. Yes, this chapter was short, but that was the perfect place to stop.

P.S. Just in case you didn't read my bio, I'm a guy (thank you very much.) Just feel the need to specify that seeing as fanficton writers are mostly girls.


	2. Symphonies

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

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The Wishing Well

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Chapter 2

Symphonies

Classes came the next day, as they did every day, and Harry was once again rushed around from class to class, caught up in the insane schedule that was a Hogwarts' school day. Still, Harry managed to make it through the rest of the day, holding on to the fact that once he broke free of the hours upon hours of study, classes, and assignments, he would be free of the day. When night came, he would be at the lake again, free to let his guard down and be Harry as he was, not as the boy who lived. Thus, Harry's good mood prevailed until right after lunch. Potions class was next.

Harry's first mistake was to enter the classroom with a faint smile on his face. The slip up was instantly rectified with five points from Gryffindor for some minuscule thing or another. Still, although Harry was no longer smiling, he demeanor was cheerful throughout the whole class. That is, until Snape realized it.

"Had a good day today, Potter?" Snape swooped down on him like a hawk sighting a mouse. Still Harry would not be deterred from his good mood.

"Yes sir. Thank you for asking. Had know idea you cared." Harry grinned back at him and Ron beside him sniggered.

Snape waved it off though. "I'm very glad to hear that, Potter. But then, seeing as your idea of a good day is one where you don't get anyone close to you killed…….." he whispered, only loud enough for Harry to hear.

Harry's mood went out the window as he felt his face heat up. Everyone in the room looked on to see what was going to happen.

"Yes. Granger and Weasely are still here, which means you must be having a fair day so far." he was sneering now. Harry's fist rose slightly, as if considering wiping it off his face, but instead it grasped furiously for his quill.

"Still, there are a few more hours in a day. Some of the worst days start out as good ones."

The quill snapped in Harry's hand and the inked tip on it was making deep, blue lines in his paper. Snape, apparently satisfied, moved on to other matters.

"Longbottom! The Basilisk scales go in before the death root!"

The instant class was over, Harry rushed out the classroom door. Hermoine and Ron looked at each other before going after him. They caught him in the hallway and called for him to wait up. It crossed Harry's to just ignore them and keep walking, but he knew he would feel guilty about it later. Resigning himself, he stopped and let them catch him.

"Don't listen to a word that greasy bastard says. It's not your fault. Sirius made his own decisions and so do we. Nothing you have done or can do will change that." Hermoine assured him.

Harry nodded glumly, but didn't answer. Hermoine and Ron exchanged a look. Harry had been depressed all year, though it seemed he was getting better. Ron had told Hermoine that he no longer woke in the middle of the night, screaming. Of course, if he had, Ron wouldn't have known as Harry had been sneaking out to the lake every night. Still, Harry was constantly having mood swings; going from cheerful, to enraged, to depressed to excited with in hours. He was a roller coaster of emotions and his friends feared the end was still not in sight.

"Harry, just remember if you ever need to talk, we're there for you."

Harry gave another dispassionate nod, Hermoine gave Ron another worried look, and Ron gave a helpless shrug. They continued in silence until they reached the Fat Lady when Harry shocked Ron and Hermoine by speaking.

"Listen, guys. I'm a little hungry. Didn't get much to eat at lunch so I'm gonna pop down by the kitchens." Harry strolled of, hands stuffed in his pockets, eyes cast down at the floor.

"I'm really worried about him, Ron. He just seems to be so lost."

Ron nodded. "Still, he does seem to be getting better. I just hope he understands how much he comes out of this soon. He cant keep everything in like this."

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Harry had no intention of going to the kitchens. Instead, he got out onto the grounds and summoned his broom from there. After a few minuets, he caught it in his hand, mounted it, and took to the skies. I don't think words could describe the freedom he felt with his hands firmly clutching onto that oak handle as he dived from the sky, but be it enough to say he would die happy if he were to pass out in a loop and fall to his demise.

The sky was not high enough for Harry as he whipped around the tiers and spires of Hogwarts Castle. He twisted through the ramparts, as the sunset on the horizon. His heart was calling to him, telling him to go higher; faster; freer. He wished he'd never have to land.

But life's burdens soon weighed him back down to Earth. It was almost curfew and he had to be in his dormitories soon. As he flew to the Gryfindor tower, he glanced down at the lake from above. He would be there again soon. He just had to give the impression of actually sleeping in the dorms first.

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Harry slipped out from behind the fat lady, his invisibility cloak covering him and made his way through the castle. It took a while, but eventually he made it out on to the grounds and to the lake. Once again, as it had every night for weeks, the lake wrapped him up in it's peace.

Storm clouds gathered in the darkened sky overhead, but Harry paid them no heed. That is until it began to rain fierce buckets down on him. Instead of abandoning his spot, however, Harry levitated his cloak over head to act like a rain block, placed a warming charm on himself, and continued to sit by the bank as the heavens opened up. Harry didn't mind. He loved the rain. Always had. Probably always would.

So Harry stayed and enjoyed himself as the skies played out their symphonies. This night, Harry slept not to the singing of the mermaids, but to the booming thunder; a great kettle drum in the atmosphere's revision of Stravinsky's Firebird Saga.

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AN: Second chapter. Told you this wasn't a one shot. And don't worry. There will be more to the story than just this. I'm just setting the stage. The plot comes later. Please review and tell me what you think. Honesty over false compliments. Constructive criticism over flames.


	3. In So Many Words

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

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Chapter Three: In so many words.

The next morning, just before dawn, Harry woke feeling like crap. His warming spell had worn off in the night, waking him up from his peaceful slumber. After only a few seconds of trying to discover what was going on, Harry had recast the spell and gone back to sleep. Unfortunately, he was soaked and his spell didn't seem to be enough. Now he had a bad case of the common cold to show for it. Harry made his way back to the dorms, wondering how to explain to Ron and Hermione how he'd caught a cold in a cozy, warm bed.

Thankfully, his friends didn't ask any awkward questions when they woke up. He just simply explained he wasn't feeling well and that he would go see Madam Pomfrey in a little bit. He just needed a little rest at the moment. They nodded understandingly and didn't badger him about it. So it was that Harry found himself spending the day in the infirmary with Madam Pomfrey mothering over him like a hen

Harry stared at the plane white walls of the infirmary with dispassionate interest. They were his prison walls for the day. Normally, he was held down by the work load of the day, but today seemed to have taken a twist and decided to lock him behind the plain, confining walls of the school infirmary. It was his own fault, he told himself. He should have placed more warming charms. He should have cast a drying charm on the grass he slept on. He shouldn't have gone out that night……. No scratch that. He had to go out that night. He had to go out every night. The lake was _his_, and he would never give it up.

A knock brought Harry form his thoughts causing him to start in surprise. There standing in the doorway was the Headmaster, Dumbledore.

"Hello, Harry. Enjoying you stay?" Dumbledore asked, his eyes twinkling away. Harry wondered idly if there were contacts that could make your eyes do that.

Harry smiled weakly. "Not especially." he shrugged. He knew why the headmaster was here. He wanted to know why he had caught a cold. He wanted to take away his lake. His peace. And he would.

"How does one come to catch a cold in a nice warm bed. It really is curious. Perhaps you could enlighten me." Dumbledore quirked an eyebrow. It was no use to hide it. He already knew. Harry hung his head, refusing to meet his eyes.

Dumbledore sighed. "Harry, I've known what you were doing since the first day you went out to the lake. I allowed you to continue because I hoped with time you would make peace with what has happened. I know with time you will. But you I cant risk you going outside anymore. Promise me you wont."

_No!_ He wanted to scream. _You cant have it! It's mine! It's all I have; all that's me. And you cant take it!_ But he knew that wasn't true. He could take it, whether he promised or not. There was nothing Harry could do about it, either. So he promised.

Dumbledore looked at Harry deeply before speaking again. "I'll need to take your map and your cloak as well."

Harry's head snapped up and he stared at the headmaster in shock. He'd all ready promised. What more did he want? He wasn't going to go out anymore, so why did Dumbledore need the map and cloak?

Once again Harry repressed the urge to argue, and instead found himself nodding. Glumly, He pulled out his wand and summoned the last bits of what he had of is father to his hand. Harry felt as if he was giving a part of him as he handed them to the headmaster.

Dumbledore let a small smile grace his face, though it didn't reach the old mans eyes. "I'll just keep these safe for awhile."

Harry nodded and the headmaster walked out, leaving the boy to lay back on his infirmary bed. Harry contemplated the conversation he'd just had, and other words that had been left unsaid. He had gotten the message. It was a hard one to take, and it hurt him deeply. He felt it gnawing at his insides as he struggled to come to grips with the new revelation.

Dumbledore didn't trust him. The headmaster had even told him so, in so many words, said and unsaid. It weighed heavily on his mind, even as he drifted off into a his dreams.

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AN: Yes, I know. It was short again. Normally, my chapters in my other fics are longer than this, but in this one the just don't seem to go as long. Oh well. Please review.


	4. A Place for My Head

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter

Chapter 4: A Place for My Head

Night was once again falling over Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The rain from the night before had carried through the day and now fell still over the moss covered bricks of the castle. Harry watched it fall from a window in the Gryfindor Tower. His lake lay on the ground below him; calling for him to come. He could not. All he could do was sit in his tower and pine for it like the fairy story princess does for her knight. Was this what he was reduced to? Having romantic notions over an over grown puddle? This was stupid. He should be doing homework or something important. He should be training to fight Voldemort or Bellatrix. He should be inventing ways to cause her pain. Pain for what she did to Sirius. There were dark arts books in the restricted section. He should go and-

The mermaids began to sing. He could tell be the way the fish became more active in the lake. He could not hear it though. He could not feel the waters comforting touch or have solitude and nirvana lulled into his weary soul……………… But what of it……………….. Life's not perfect. Pain and sorrow don't fade with time, they become a part of you. They form your being as the heat of a fire purges the impurities and lesser metals from the true steel that is needed. Life is only series of emotions, victories and defeats, valleys and mountains. All that is required of a man is that he not waste it. The lake had taught him that……. Somehow. It was time to move on.

Harry caught one last look at the lake, and for an instant wished…….. Wished what? That his parents had never died? That Sirius would appear suddenly next to him and say something like "Dead? Me? Twelve years in Azkaban and I'm dead just because I fall through a hole? Harry, it takes more than that to kill this old dog." That Remus could sleep through a full moon with out turning into beast? That Draco Malfoy would hurry up and become a Death Eater so Harry could kill him? Brutally?

No. Such thoughts were useless. None of that would happen (except maybe the part about Draco, so he would continue to hope.) so to spend time doing so would be to waste the precious gift of life that his mother and father, and now Sirius, had paid for with their lives. The desire that came to his head when he looked out on the lake was of a baser, more natural origin. He wished for a place of refuge from the world. A place for his head.

I want to be in another place

I hate when you say you don't understand

I want to be in the energy

Not with the enemy, a place for my head

------_A Place for My Head------_

**Linkin Park**


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